‘Don’t fob me off, boy. You know, Melusine. ‘You do not dare look in my clothes. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters. The clouds were nearly black with rain, threatening to spill sleet in daggers and torrents. She fell asleep instantaneously, fatigued from weeks of exhaustion. "A sail?" said McClintock.
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